


The Last Time

by TheOlderDixonBoy



Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOlderDixonBoy/pseuds/TheOlderDixonBoy
Summary: Short little thing that was supposed to be 100 words about a photo of Rooker’s character’s mugshot. You bail Merle out of jail, again, but this time, there is something different about the man. Angst.Warnings: drug references, language.





	The Last Time

You glared at him as he hopped into the passenger seat of his truck, that you were driving. You started his truck, the one you just paid to get it of impound at the police station after he used his one phone call to beg you to come bail him out.

“How much is it this time, Merle?” You asked earlier that day, your fingers squeezing the bridge of your nose as you sighed into the phone. How did you getinto this mess with him?

“Five grand,” he said, quickly finishing his spheal before you could hang up the phone on him. “Ya only gotta pay five hundred though! I got the money, baby. I’ll pay ya back. I always do.”

You groaned into the phone. Knowing it would be, in all honesty, better for Merle to sit in jail for a couple days before you came and got him. But you also had developed a soft spot for the man, much to your annoyance, and the idea of him sitting in a jail cell did tug at your heart.

“I swear to god, Merle. This is the last time.” You said, for the fourth time that year. He always did pay you back after all, somehow. You never asked where he got the money to pay you back. You figured he borrowed it from someone else or pawned some stuff. You also didn’t ask what his charges were. You never did. It was always something increasingly stupid. Drunk on a bicycle, possession of marijuana, disorderly conduct, the list went on.

You went through the process of paying his bond, getting his car out of impound, another hundred dollars you didn’t have to spend on your redneck, you didn’t even know what, boyfriend was not the right word. You wouldn’t let it be the right word.

Merle went through the outtake process, was given a court date, and three hours after you got to the jail, he was getting into his truck. He was muted, a rare occurrence for Merle even just out of jail. You still hadn’t asked what Merle had done this time, but he looked different. Scared almost. And five thousand was a hell of a lot of money for bail for a redneck every judge this side of the Mississippi knew wasn’t a flight risk and didn’t have much money of his own to be anyway.

You glared sideways at Merle as he buckled his seat belt and you started to pull out of the jail parking lot. Merle kept his eyes down and his jaw clenched. When you made it to his house, an old beat up mobile home just off the edge of nowhere, you shut his truck off and sighed.

“How’d ya get to the jail?” Merle asked. His voice was quiet. It was the first thing he said to you since he got into the truck with you.

“Daryl picked me up and drove me,” you said.

“Where’s he?” Merle asked. He was nervous. Something you’d never seen before.

“Don’t know. But he needs to give me a ride home.” You said with a slight chuckle. You should have taken Merle to your place and then let himself drive home, but you weren’t thinking straight. You were so mad at him and tired of him and so confused as to what you wanted from him you couldn’t focus.

“I’ll drive ya home, baby.” Merle said, trying to give you a smile and failing. Merle looked defeated. His usual demeanor much more deflated and calm than you used to. It made you nervous.

“I’ll walk. I need the air. It’s only a couple miles,” you said. You hopped out of Merle truck and handed him the keys before closing the door. He hopped out too and followed you a few steps out to the main road outside the mobile home park.

“Baby, come on now. I told ya it’d be the last time,” Merle said. He was using the same words he usually used with you to convince you to stay each time you picked him up from jail or got into a fight. Everything with Merle was the last time. You were so tired of it.

“I don’t wanna hear it Merle,” you groaned and continued walking. You couldn’t be near him right now. If you were, you’d stay. You shouldn’t stay. You wanted to so badly to stay. There was still a naive part of you that wanted to “fix” Merle. To make him see he didn’t need drugs and booze and guns and the company of strangers to have fun. That he could be happy with you. But you had lied to yourself. You let Merle trick you into thinking he could change and you were mad more at yourself than him for that.

“Baby! I messed up okay?” Merle said, his voice becoming more desperate. “I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

You stopped walking to turn around and stare daggers at him. You were fucking pissed. That line. That stupid line. The one that made you feel like maybe he really did care about you. The one that got you into his bed night and night. You tried not to think of how blue his eyes were as you stared at him. How soft his lips were when he pressed them against your lips or your neck or anywhere else. How his hair felt in your hands as you’d hold onto him in the throws of your passion. And how he’d always hold you in his arms afterwards, never kicking you out of bed, and always falling asleep feeling him peppering small kisses anywhere he could reach on you.

But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. You couldn’t. As much as you wanted him to change, he wouldn’t. He was getting worse. You could see it in his eyes, something beyond his tiredness and his pitiful look of apology on his face. He was using again.

“What was it for this time?” You asked him. Your voice came out in a harsh, choppy tone.

“Possession.” He said simply.

“Of?”

“Meth.”

“God fucking damn it, Merle.”

You just stared at him. Knowing full well this would be the last time you helped him. You meant it this time. You couldn’t. You were not going to watch someone else you cared about lose their life slowly over drugs. Not like you had your father. It was too painful.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Merle pleaded. “I fucked up.”

You considered him for a moment. Trying to speak through your anger.

“Why was it so much?” You asked.

“What?”

“Your bail. Why was it so much? Five thousand is a lot for drug possession, even of meth.” You hated you knew that.

“With intent to sell.” Merle mumbled, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Excuse you?” You asked. You felt like you were talking to a misbehaving child, and in reality you knew speaking to an addict was often times not much different.

“Possession with intent to sell,” Merle said.

He said nothing after that. He knew he couldn’t. He just looked at you, sorrow in his eyes. And something else. Or rather, something wasn’t there. He had lost that glint in his eye that caught your attention that first night at that dive bar at the edge of town. The glint that had made you feel hot and flustered when he told you how pretty you were and that he wanted to buy the most beautiful person in the place a drink. It was the same little mischievous look Daryl still had, and your heart fell for a moment as you realized that Daryl, who always did what Merle did, may have lost the glint in his eye too.

“I can’t, Merle,” you said, tears stinging the back of your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You turned in your heel and walked, head down, in the direction of home. You were only vaguely aware of where you were going, glad this part of town only really had one main road. You could hear Merle yelling behind you, but you couldn’t make out the words. You were trying to will him to chase after you. To follow you down that road and hold you there so you couldn’t walk away from him, but he didn’t. You were right, something in Merle had changed forever. That glint in Merle’s eye was made of the same stuff that gave him the will to fight, and he had lost it. He watched you walk down that road knowing this time you’d never come back and he tried to will himself to follow you, but it didn’t happen

He just stood there, knowing somehow that if he caught up to you, he’d convince you to stay. He couldn’t do that. He already hated himself enough for bringing Daryl down with him. He couldn’t do that to the only other person he loved.


End file.
